


The Midday Sun at Midnight

by Rosedrop



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Not Beta Read, Song fic, because these two deserve to be happy, honestly just a lot of fluff and sap with some sexy stuff thrown in, so sorry for any major mistakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:07:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23437429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosedrop/pseuds/Rosedrop
Summary: Jaskier and Geralt stop for the night at an inn whilst on their travels, and Jaskier has an opportunity to perform with one of his old schoolmates. And there's a certain song he's especially excited to perform for a certain Witcher as well.Aka, it was only a matter of time before I worked a song from The Wicker Man into a fic.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 2
Kudos: 79





	The Midday Sun at Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven’t seen the 1973 version of The Wicker Man, I highly highly suggest you take a quick listen to Willow’s Song over on YouTube, to give you a better idea of what the tempo and tone is like when Jaskier sings it. Be warned though, it and every other song from the movie are literally all about sex in some way, and none are particular subtle about it (but are still extremely catchy). Otherwise I hope you enjoy, and feel free to check my tumblr out @rosedropper

Even before they’d officially started traveling together, Geralt was pretty well aware of Jaskier’s proclivity towards upholding a rather gaudy visage, both in dress and song choice. Hell, whenever Jaskier had made his intent on transforming Geralt public persona he’d been expecting all of his attempts to amount to little more than drunken tunes akin to Fishmonger’s Daughter then any true hero’s ballad.

But, much like his surprise the first time Jaskier had drawn the dagger hidden in his boot when a drunken thug had decided to try and throw them out of their room at an inn many years earlier, his song. True, most taverns and bars still hooted and hollered for Fishmonger’s Daughter and some of the other dirtier works he’d come up with in his days at Oxenfurt, such as the just as badly named Landlord’s Daughter which was for whatever reason very popular amongst the farming communities they stopped in.

But other than that? Geralt had needed to only bark out his displeasure towards lines that hinted a bit too closely at his more intimate affairs in those early weeks, and Jaskier had more-then-less taken the hints to heart and stuck mainly to composing about the wide variety of beasts Geralt managed to strike down in that time. Besides, after traveling together a number of years and finally setting themselves straight on where their feelings towards one another lied, the bard had decided he rather liked the idea of having a certain side of his Wolf privy only to himself and not his hard-earned adoring public.

Course, Geralt did have to practically twist Jaskier’s arm off the first time they’d succeeded in having sex in an actual bed, not on some patch of dirt on the forest floor or in the hayloft of an abandoned barn, when the fool began giggling nonstop as he attempted to rhyme “the White Wolf’s vast stamina” with something along the lines of “the finest of taffeta” in his post-orgasm induced haze, and since then “what happens in the bedroom stays in the bedroom” had become a hard and fast rule (at that time though Geralt was more than happy to, rather gently he’d argue, just toss Jaskier into the long-forgotten tub near their bed, barely able to suppress his own chuckle when the Bard then proceeded to try and pull him into the water as well. Gods, they’d been an absolute mess that night, and looking back that was now probably one of Geralt’s most treasured memories, atrocious rhyming couplets aside).

And as the two grew more and more comfortable with each other’s more intimate sides behind closed doors, Geralt found himself growing less and less surprised by his bard’s raunchier selections, one could only hear lines like “to fuck with a puck” so many times before the words became no more then background to the performer himself.

Well at least, that what Geralt had originally thought.

Indeed, it seemed the world and Jaskier himself still held many surprises for Geralt to uncover, as he quickly learned when they approached an inn one night already occupied by another bard. This particular bard, going by the name Britt, turned out to be a college of Jaskier’s from Oxenfurt, and one who elicited a far happier reaction from his bard then their encounter with Valdo Marx had.

After a quick introduction Britt had invited the two to join them at the bar top but Geralt decided to decline the offer, instead bringing his ale over to a table tucked into a corner that provided him a decent view of the entire space. He remembered the last time Jaskier had had a pleasant encounter with one of his old schoolmates, and he decided a potential three hour gossip session wasn’t that high on his lists of ways to relax after nearly a week of nonstop travel.

Besides, it was always pleasant to see his bard become so animated from just a simple conversation, and it was far easier to hide a smile behind his mug of ale where he was sitting.

Thankfully three hours ended up just being about twenty minutes, as Geralt watched the two exchange a quick hug before Britt turned to head upstairs and Jaskier turned back to the bar, before striving over to Geralt’s table with two bowls of stew and two more mugs of ale balanced rather precariously in his arms.

“Top floor, second door on the right, if you want a bath brought up it’s before or after the dinner rush, and Barmaid said if you’re looking for work to just head straight for the apothecary, Alderman’s gone until next Sunday and “No coin” is to leave that house until his return.” Jaskier explains as he miraculously manages to place their food down with only one piece of carrot deciding to jump onto the floor. Geralt responds with a quick nod and grunt, grateful for the food and information, and slides over just a hair to give Jaskier enough space to sit beside them.

They both stay quiet for the moment, content to just attack their bowls and let the sounds of the tavern fill in the rest of the space. Geralt’s always much more comfortable when their able to ease back into a village like this, a week on the road with only Roach, Jaskier, and whatever lurks in the forests around them means suddenly entering something like a bustling marketplace tends to play a bit of havoc on his senses. Something like this though? Far more manageable, and resulting in far fewer headaches.

Geralt finishes far sooner then Jaskier, as usual, and while he waits for the serving he waves over to bring out another portion he decided to speed up the inevitable and said, “You seemed much happier this time around.”

Jaskier chuckled, setting his spoon down to grab his own drink, “Helps when you’re not dealing with a sorry excuse for a court jester who likes to pry into things that aren’t his to know. No, Britt’s always been a pleasure to be around, I wasn’t as familiar with them as I was with Priscilla and Fredrick in my school days, but I’ve run into them often enough out here on the path to consider them a friend, and a decent songwriter to boot. Although,” He paused for a moment, gazing back up at Geralt with the same teasing smirk he often had when he was about to go _there_ , “Some of my personal favorites of theirs are far better suited to more private listenings.”

Now Geralt couldn’t even bother to hide his rolling eyes, Gods Above he prayed this place had been built with thicker walls, but he didn’t try to hide the smile in his eyes either nor the slight tease in his voice, “Then I suppose your planning to stay far away from the stage tonight then, while your colleague gets all the glory for themself?”

“Oh no no, that’s the other part of all this. While we were talking, Britt mentioned having an agreement for this place’s stage until the end of the week, but it seems yesterday morning they woke up to a rather nasty bug, to the point where they were unable to perform last night.”

“Hmmm. Didn’t smell ill.” While it still wasn’t perfect, traveling with Jaskier for so long had given Geralt a much better understanding of the various ways normal human bodies reacted under stress, beyond the coppery tones of anger and curdled milk of fear. He’d smelt none of the sour fruit and salt smell that tended to indicate when Jaskier was feeling under the weather, but he had noticed some rather prominent bags under the other bards eyes during their brief interaction.

“Yes, apart from a little rasp while we were talking I didn’t notice anything too dire either, but they said when they tried warming up this morning a fly would have done a better job at producing sound.” Jaskier paused for a moment to take a deep swig of ale, more than pleased to finally have something other than boiled river water and weak tea to quench his thirst with before continuing, “So they asked if I minded engaging in a little partnership for the evening, I sing and play the lute while they accompany it with their fiddle, and we split the profits down the middle. I figured you still have a bag and a half of coin left from that last Nekker nest, and if the crowds have been even half as warm as Britt said they’ve been then even half of that coin should at least be enough to get out supplies refilled.”

“Seems fair.”

‘Indeed. And now,” Jaskier pushed his now empty bowl away, stretching his arms for a moment before resting his hand on Geralt’s own, “I’m off to rehearse and build our set for tonight. Remember, bathe before dinner, or your out of luck till afterwards.” He gave the top of his Witcher’s hand a quick squeeze, though he paused to allow Geralt to move and clasp their hands together properly and do the same.

It was simple, but perhaps that’s what made it so comforting.

But alas, they both had things to do, so they separated their hands, Jaskier flashing back a smile and wave before heading upstairs, and Geralt shifted his attention back to the rest of his meal. If things went smoothly, he should have the time to head towards the aforementioned apothecary to see if there was any work to be done nearby, and be back in time for a soak before he was due back downstairs. He drained the rest of his ale, tossed a few coins onto the table, and was off.

*****

It seemed whatever Britt had told Jaskier about crowds earlier hadn’t been too far off, as by the time Geralt returned from the apothecary with the promise to look into a possible ghoul infestation near a long-abandoned cemetery the place was practically bursting. On his way through he noticed a piece of wood propped up on the table he’d been seated at earlier, the word RESERVED carved into the wood, and when the barmaid from earlier caught a glimpse of him she waved him over to the bar to thrust another, much smaller piece of wood into his hands, “Your bard came down earlier and said to have a seat saved for yah, smart on him, we get crowded enough when just one of them performs, we’ll have the whole damn village in tonight it seems.” He nodded his thanks and headed back upstairs where thankfully the bath he’d requested before heading out, forming a minor Igni against the tub before settling in for a soak.

Jaskier had come back into their room briefly, just to grab his clothes and freshen up at the basin on the dresser, and Geralt made a note to see about getting the tub refreshed before they headed up for the night. He seemed in a hurry to get back, chattering about everything and nothing as he went, but before he was back out the door he turned his head to flash back a smile and throw out how there was a certain song of Britt he was quite excited for the Witcher to hear that night, and Geralt only had time to raise an eyebrow before Jaskier was gone, shrugging at his Lark’s abrupt exit. No matter, it wouldn’t be the first time Jaskier excitement made him say something along those lines, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

Knowing he didn’t have to worry about dealing with the crowd in order to find a seat, let alone his own table, helped ease off some of the tension that never seemed far off from the back of Geralt’s mind, and he was able to wait until just before Jaskier and Britt were set to perform before heading back down into all of the noise.

Indeed, the once vacant tavern now seemed just about ready to burst open, with younger and older patrons ready to settle in for the evening’s fanfare, and Geralt was mildly surprised to even see a group of what looked to be teenagers occupying one of the larger tables near the stage, very obviously under the watchful eyes of some of the village’s older matrons seated behind them, glaring away any attempts made by the teens to get one of the barmaids to sneak a mug over.

He quickly made his way over to thankfully still vacant table, wisely grabbing two mugs of mead since it looked like any trips back to the bar would practically require one to start swimming, and settled in just as caught a glimpse of Jaskier and Britt taking the stage.

Even back when he first spotted him in that tavern all those years ago, Geralt could never deny the style and ease of his bard once he was standing on a stage, looking extra sharp in his sky blue doublet, the stitched white flowers practically flowing down his sleeves, and a good contrast to the dark purple and red ensemble of his companion. Britt settled on a stool near the middle of the stage, with Jaskier positioned closer to the front with his lute, and with one quick flick of it’s catgut strings the room feel silent.

It seemed the song selection for the night was more akin to a proper concert then a corner of an inn’s tavern, but the given the mount of people holed up in such tight quarters it was probably for the best that they steered clear of anything that would inspire little more than some clapping now and again. The first few Geralt recognized easily enough, the first being a ballad detailing a fight with a particularly nasty harpy that got a few cheers thrown his way, the second a more comedic piece detailing a young maid’s unfortunate attempt to get some laundry done whilst surrounded by barn animals, that received quite a few rounds of laughter and applause from the women in the room.

Soon though they moved onto one’s not as familiar to Geralt, most likely those written by Britt, with names like Pruning Shears and Corn Rigs. But Jaskier wasn’t considered a master of his craft for nothing, and he performed each and every one of them with just as much passion and energy as his own. 

But as the night drew on, and the fire in the inn’s hearth began to lose its glow, Jaskier once turned his attention fully on his Wolf, making sure their eyes where now truly connected. He nodded so softly even Geralt could barely make it out, and his eyes seemed to glow with, something else now. He turned away slowly, beginning a softer tune now, with Britt’s fiddle adding an almost otherworldly quality to the melody, lulling Geralt and the rest of the audience into a strange sense of serenity.

And then, Jaskier began to sing.

_Heigh Ho? Who is there?_

_No one but me, my dear._

_Please come, say how do?_

_The things I’ll give to you._

It reminded Geralt almost of the lullabies, how gentle it was, but this was far, far deeper than that, and now guessing by the look Jaskier had given him that this was the song he’d been most excited to share, and Gods and Goddesses no wonder he’d made the joke earlier about more private performances.

_A stroke as gentle as a feather,_

_I’ll catch a rainbow from the sky_

_And tie the ends together_

You could’ve heard a pin drop out in the stables, with how silent the room had fallen, and even the barmaids had turned away from their cleaning to turn their eyes toward the stage.

_Heigh Ho! I am here_

_Am I not young and fair?_

_Please come, say how do?_

_Would you have a wond’rous sight_

_The midday sun, at midnight?_

Jaskier had abandoned any pretense of keeping his eyes on his audience, his attention now on one man, and one man only, and by the smile on his face he knew _exactly_ what he was doing to said man, who’d long since abandoned his mead and who’s eyes had turned into pools of molten gold in the candlelight.

_Fair maid, white and red_

_Comb you smooth and stroke your head,_

_How a maid can milk a bull_

_And every stroke a bucketful!_

Oh, he didn’t stand a damn chance now.

*****

The song’s lyrics repeated a few more times before gently edging off into silence, and for a moment there wasn’t a sound to be heard for miles. But just as quickly as it settled, the whole room was awash in thunderous applause, the two bards bowing gratefully to their adoring audience, and any semblance of peace and ease flung out the window.

It was practically impossible to get near the stage, so Geralt bid his time in the back, now leaning against the wall near the stairs. People flung the rest of their coin into instrument cases left propped on the stage, drained the last of their beers, and began laborious process of slowly but surely filing out for the night. Finally after what seemed like hours later it seemed all that were left were those actually staying at the inn for the night, and blessed silence once again fell over the room.

Geralt still didn’t move however, instead watching as the two bards quickly went about splitting their rather impressive payout from the night, with Britt electing to head upstairs first, coins in her case and fiddle in hand, nodding to Geralt as they passed by who returned the gesture. Jaskier however took his time, carefully gathering his coin into his purse and giving his lute a quick wipe down before placing it back in its case. The snap of the leather seemed to ease some of the tension from his shoulders, a lazy smile spread across his face as tucked it under one arm and used the other to bid the final barmaid and remaining patrons a goodnight.

He stopped in front of Geralt, who’d practically melted into the staircase’s shadow save for the slight shine in his eyes, who moved with a grace so unexpected of a man of his size as he settled a hand on the small of Jaskier’s back and gently nudged him up the two flights of stairs, silence between them save from a slight hum at the back of Jaskier’s throat, as if the melodies weren’t ready to leave his mind just yet.

But once they were finally back in the privacy of their room Geralt finally removed his hand from Jaskier’s back and instead took hold of his lute case, propping it up against the wall, and before the bard even had time to blink the Witcher had crowded him back up against the door, arms encircling his waist to gently but firmly left him up and push him into the wood. Skilled hands worked to rid Jaskier of his doublet, and for his part he merely laughed as Geralt pushed himself into the crock oh his neck and settled there, dotting the skin above his chemise with searing kisses, and wrapped his own arms around his Wolf’s neck and set his head on top white locks that smelled suspiciously of the lavender and orange oil he had stashed away in his bag.

“So I suppose that last song was to your liking then, yes?”

“Hmm”

“Hmm indeed, you know, there’s another tune, “Gently Johnny” I believe, that Britt wrote as well, around the same time as that one, perhaps sometime I ought to give you your own personal performance of it. Ahhh.” Jaskier couldn’t help but shudder as he felt his Wolf’s mouth begin to descend deeper into his shirt, which he had a feeling he wouldn’t be staying on for very much longer.

“Perhaps, but for now I feel there’s to be a different type of performance in store tonight, more of a duet, I suppose.”

“My dear, dear Wolf, you do continue to surprise me so.”

“I could very well say the same for you Lark, but I’d much rather let this,” Geralt firmly palmed the growing bulge on Jaskier’s trouser, eliciting a downright criminal moan from his bard that he quickly swallowed with a kiss, taking a moment to leave him utterly breathless before trailing down towards his neck, “do the rest of the talking for tonight.”

And so for the remainder of the evening they were as good as dead to the world right outside their door, and there was no force in the land that had the power to change that for anything. 

**Author's Note:**

> I still can't believe I finally managed to write this all out, holy crap. Also to the person who tried to help me and suggested the word ‘Banana’ to rhyme with ‘Stamina’ I love you and from the bottom of my heart I’m gonna find a way to use that someday. And I have no clue when something like taffeta would have first been available to the general public so to any fabric aficionados out there please accept my humblest of apologies.


End file.
